


Splinter From The Headboard

by PlatinumAndPercocet



Series: Hallmark Holidays [5]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Boys In Love, Domestic Bliss, Kid Fic, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 18:28:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17792492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlatinumAndPercocet/pseuds/PlatinumAndPercocet
Summary: Storms, Barry White and Pete having a brilliant idea. What could go wrong? Written for Be My Peterick Valentine 2019





	Splinter From The Headboard

**Author's Note:**

> Another trip to Phoenix Pass. This series brings me so much joy. Endless thanks to the inspiring and endlessly amazing organizers for all they do. My life would suxk without you. 
> 
> Not betaed because I am the worst. 
> 
> I have so much fun revisiting this world and this was longer but life happened and sleep did not. 
> 
> Happy Valentine's day, make sure you brush your teeth!

Patrick liked control; he didn't crave it, per se, but it made him comfortable. Jumping into something with both feet didn't seem quite so scary when he knew what was below the surface but there were always unknowns, there always had been, and while he had his moments of frustration, they usually were taken in stride. Or, you know, they forced themselves in and stayed. Pete had been an unknown, showing up on a literal storm of chaos, and integrating himself so perfectly into Patrick's life that it was impossible to imagine life without him. More than that, it was unthinkable. Pete and Remmy made life better, in every sense of the word. But Pete... Pete liked surprises and when he told Patrick to meet him at the cottage that had once been his home and now functioned as a de facto honeymoon suite for the inn on Valentine's night, well... Patrick was a little nervous.

The months since the wedding, not quite two, had been absolutely chaotic between well, the wedding itself and following stay at home honeymoon and then the task of relocating from Los Angeles to Phoenix Pass… Patrick was fucking tired, in every sense of the word. He, Pete, Wiley, and Remmy had just finished decorating and furnishing their new home-THEIR NEW HOME- Just a week prior and all Patrick wanted was a nap. He had time off from work, the inn was in its slow season and love, in all,] it's Hallmark glory, blossomed through the air. 

The main street, which houses not only the inn but the post office, primary school, clinic and smattering of stores was appropriately doused in manufactured adoration. Lamp posts were wound with ribbons in cheery red and pink, courtesy of the town's tallest lawyer and a latter. Dallon had looked, the entire time he had been up there, that he would have rather been anywhere else but when Elsie asks… well, nobody could say no to her. The window displays were just as festive, pink, red and white hearts, Garland and lights as far as the very limited eye could see. Limited not because of Patrick's decidedly questionable eyesight, but rather the snow that steadfastly refused to stop falling down. L.A. it was not, for sure, but the cold held memories of bracing lake effect storms and hot cocoa with marshmallows drank from a mug clasped in frozen fingers. 

It was all new to Wiley who seemed to adapt far easier than Patrick had anticipated. The little girl had taken to the snow quicker than a duck to water, although Patrick, as always, attributed that to the Colorado blood from her mother; Genetics never ceased to amaze him. 

Then again, Wiley also had her best friend to help her acclimate. Remmy had, much in the same vein as his father, integrated himself into the Stump family home with little more than a smile, toothy and white, from behind a child appropriate box of clothes as he made his way to his new room in their shared home. It was almost astounding how easily things fit into place, logistically. Well, personally, anyway; the professional aspect of the whole move was still kind of tenuous and the very last thing from Patrick’s mind. 

Work was in another world. The kids were at Frank and Gerard’s house, the two having called dibs on the holiday festivities and there was…. Yes, that was Barry White playing in the little cabin as Patrick approached the door. It was cliche and hopelessly romantic and everything that Patrick could have ever had hoped for from his husband. There was, however, still a lingering sense of unease. Pete was very careful not to give anything about his plans away, just asking a hushed ‘Do you trust me?’ over a voice mail while Patrick drove slowly through the snowy streets after dropping Wiley and Remmy off. Ignoring the call he should have made, he simply made his way to Pete’s former residence and slipped inside, turning the lock behind him. Instead of the usual incandescent glow, of the overheads, the room was lit with what seemed like hundreds of candles, red roses carefully arranged in vases scattered perfectly round the main room and trailing up the stairs. Pete was ridiculous and Patrick loved him more than he could have ever imagined. Shrugging out of his and toeing off his boots so as not to track slush through the whole house, Patrick carefully deposited his hat on the coat tree and followed the music up to the loft bedroom, ignoring the ominous Buffy flashbacks of years past. There was a ninety-nine point nine nine percent chance he wasn’t going to die; with Pete, it was always moderately less but judging by the off-key crooning that accompanied Barry, Pete was alive and well. Either that or one of the barn cats had gained the ability to annunciate. 

Fortunately for Patrick, it was the former, and he couldn't help his smile as he entered the bedroom to be greeted by Pete, shirtless and glowing golden in the candlelight, his smile wide and white and perfect. That smile still struck him dumb sometimes, and he was not even remotely ashamed to admit it. 

“You know, being such an overachiever really makes the watch in my pocket seem super lame.” There was a certain levity in Patrick’s voice, a teasing lilt that had Pete tugging him close, his hands sliding over jean pockets and around to far from covertly grope Patrick’s ass. 

“Shut it. You got me a house for a wedding present, to say nothing of uprooting your entire existence. I have a whole lot of making up to do.” The words were followed by a kiss, sweet and genuine, with the slightest edge of desire chasing behind it. “So… you trust me, right?”

There was a certain note of worry in Pete’s voice, a far cry from the usual self-assured confidence that he exuded and Patrick paused, tilting his head back to meet whiskey eyes, burning amber bright in the candle glow. “With my life.” It was a smile declaration and one that Patrick would make over and over again until his dying day. It was also the right one, so it seemed, as Pete handed over a flat box, wrapped in matte black paper and decorated with a frankly garish bow. Patrick pursed his lips as he opened it, eyes glancing between the paper and his husband until the lid was popped off to reveal a pair of shining silver handcuffs, gleaming cold against their black box. 

“They were out of fuzzy ones on short notice.” The words were delivered so matter of factly that Patrick almost laughed, but managed to rein it in with little more than a smile and a shake of his head. 

“You are incorrigible and I love you. I’m assuming you have plans for those?” Pete didn’t reply, he didn’t have to, the yank on Patrick’s belt and gentle shove back to the mattress said more than words ever could. 

Later, when the candles had started to burn low and skin, both milk pale and ink covered toffee gold, was slicked with sweat, Patrick finally spoke again, something beyond the moans and muttered curses, cries of pleasure and gasps of beautiful almost-pain. He was sticky, slick and fucked out, floating on a proverbial cloud. Hell, he would almost be asleep as per the usual after particularly energetic sex, but for the ache in his shoulders. His hands were still caught in tight metal, not so much as to hurt, but enough to know that they were absolutely there, and secured tightly to the wooden slats of the headboard. Pete was sprawled beside him, legs and sheets tangled mess. He was beautiful, even without glasses. But also, Patrick’s shoulders fucking hurt. 

“Baby, I love you forever, but can we please uncuff me? It’s starting to hurt and you absolutely want me to be able to use my hands in the morning, I have plans.” Plans may have been a bit of an overstatement; Patrick had a vague idea of morning head and pancakes, but there was always time to figure that out later, once he wasn’t still freshly fucked. 

“Shit yeah, let me get the ... fuck.” Pete sprung off the bed, far too spry for Patrick’s liking (although he did enjoy the view) and stumble-tripped to the bureau where a single sock and Patrick’s tie had been thrown. Patrick couldn’t see much with a great amount of clarity, but what he did see was Pete frantically throwing everything in his reach. That soaring feeling in Patrick’s stomach dropped right quick. 

“So… it’s gone.” The words were delivered with a forced lightness that had Patrick’s head dropping back into the mound of down pillows with a decidedly discouraged groan. “No, no, no! I have an idea though, okay don’t… well, I’d say don’t move but...” Pete didn’t even try to hide his laughter as he scrambled into his discarded boxers. “I’ll be right back, I promise. I love you and you trust me with your life!” The words were called out over his shoulder as Pete thudded down the stairs and the door clicked open. 

The yelp that echoed from the outside had Patrick laughing even though he promised he wouldn’t and when Pete finally returned, triumphant and snow-dusted in nearly nothing with a screwdriver raised over his head like a trophy, Patrick was both utterly aghast at his insanity and completely in love, all over again.

Maybe, just maybe, Patrick though ashe drifted to sleep in an almost totally disassembled bed, hthere was some value in that drivel that Hallmark shilled every year; Patrick would happily wait until the next holiday to find out; they'd had more than enough excitement for one night.

**Author's Note:**

> I am always about at Allkindsofplatinumandpercoct on tumblr. Come say hi and flail with me!


End file.
